Your Name in Context
INSPIRE. PRESERVE. RESIST.
“I named you Zainab to remind them of who you are.” A learned mantra passed down from my father (baba), a proud Lebanese man who immigrated to the United States, trying to grasp onto hopes of a better life for his children. Evading the civil unrest in Lebanon, my father left his country but never let go of his heritage. By giving me my name, my father passed along the value of representing my heritage, faith, and home language. Today, my appreciation and love for my Arab heritage come from my parents, who never let me forget where I come from and who I am. #OurNamesAreStories
We often overlook names as a form of simply distinguishing one another, yet our names are their own storytellers. However, it took me years to reflect on the story my name holds, and recognize the space it takes up in various contexts. The power of a single name holds a story begging to be told, and yet I think about all the untold ones. The untold stories that are taught to be hidden, anglicized, and stripped of true meaning. A name will always serve as a larger identity; when we don’t recognize the name we forget the person.
“I named you Zainab to remind them of who you are.” Who you are is an ever-evolving process. Having a common Arabic and Muslim name yet an uncommon one in America, has taught me how my name serves as a different story in different spaces. In the Arab world, I am one of many that hold the name, which enables me to display my identity much differently. On the other side of the world, my name serves as a vivid representation of my story in a different context. In America, my name is a ringing reminder of the Arabic I speak, the faith I carry, and the history of my heritage. In this context, my father passed down our heritage to me through my name, and yet my identity has become othered simply by the lack of attempt to pronounce my name.
Growing up, my name was stripped of its eloquent Arabic vowels, and anglicized with Southern twang and drawl. I let it become my name and in turn anglicized it for others unconsciously. I did not recognize my own name or my own story. Only when I reached my late college years, did I begin to reclaim my name and own narrative.
“I named you Zainab to remind them of who you are.” My father ensured that regardless of where my next venture takes me, my name and the stories it tells follows. I intend to keep that mantra, and pass it along. Mallak.
This blog post is part of the #30DaysArabVoices Blog Series, a month-long movement to feature Arab voices as writers and scholars. Please CLICK HERE to read yesterday’s blog post by Dr. Sawsan Jaber (and be sure to check out the link at the end of each post to catch up on the rest of the blog series).
Zainab identifies as a Lebanese Muslim American and is a product of immigration.
